Her Brick Walls
by jasonbournes
Summary: Clint Barton prided himself on being able to read people. Spending time at SHIELD taught him how, whether he liked to admit it or not, to master the ability to read people in the matter of life or death. Being able to anticipate people's actions based on their body movements and expressions was an essential part of his everyday life. And he was damn good at it. Then she came along.


_Authors note: Hey all! This is my first story to be published on this site, and if anything is wrong please let me know! I do not own the avengers and no copyright is intended. _

Clint Barton prided himself on being able to read people. Spending time at SHIELD taught him how, whether he liked to admit it or not, to learn the ability to read people in the matter of life or death. In the positions he was put in with his job, being perfect at reading people was vital. He needed to know if others were lying based off of simple movements, body language and facial expressions. And he was damn good at it. Then she came along.

He thrived off of distance. He was a covert distance assassin, after all. Observing people from afar was a strength for him. So, based on his growing perception of people, it was no surprise when he noticed how different she acted around him. Clint knew she wasn't the harsh cold hearted woman she made herself out to be probably even before she knew it herself.

But his confidence in his talents wavered ever so slightly after he got to know Natasha. To put it simply, the girl was unreadable. And that frustrated him like no other. Their first encounter painted her as the independent and cold woman with delicate good looks. But the one twinkle of kindness she exploited through that cold emotionless mask caught Clint's eye.

He was taught to be observant, to catch and evaluate every detail, and to read and anticipate others. But Natasha Romanoff was causing him to doubt that talent. Their relationship was complicated. On some days, she'd accept his lending hand. She'd allow him to teach her new ways and techniques. The duo would sit down and talk, telling the stories of their past. On other days, she'd completely ignore his hand. She'd reject his offer for help and spend excess time in the gym. When he'd ask if she wanted to talk about it, she wouldn't say a word but a cold retort to leave her alone. In one way, he thought it seemed as if she was taking two steps forward and three steps back. She'd be accepting his help with one hand, but back handing him with another.

The more and more he observed her, the more she didn't make sense. And it killed him. But he learned soon enough that Natasha Romanoff was a damn good liar. Or a damn good chameleon. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Clint shifted his gaze awkwardly as soon as she noticed his stare. He returned with a slight smile, knowing the gesture didn't fool her. He continued to make eye contact with her as he tightened his grip on the file in front of him. For a second, he forgets how to breathe. He sees that one twinkle in her hazel eyes that she gets when she's around him. He'd snuck peeks at her a few times while she was reading, just to get the chance to see that almost foreign sparkle in her eyes. When they're not alone, the glimmer fades away. Natasha puts her walls up, not daring to let anyone in. The firm wall she puts up tells everyone that Natasha Romanoff isn't a force to be messed with, and she lives up to the stories and tales.

His thoughts are interrupted as she clears her throat. "Clint." she growls, her eyes narrow upon his. "What is it? You keep staring at me like I have something in my teeth." Clint chuckles, noticing the slight sparkle in her eyes grow.

"It's nothing." he lies, but it doesn't fool her. Nor does she act upon it. Clint knows this hiding lifestyle will destroy her. She's afraid to let those brick walls down because of the many people she let in that have turned on her. It caused her to build them stronger and higher each and every day. Clint knows keeping that much emotion bottled up inside you is dangerous, because eventually, she'll explode. And at this rate, Natasha will be alone when it happens.

"Why don't you trust me?" Clint blurts, his eyes wide at his words. "I mean, you do, but you don't." He sinks back into his chair as if he regrets his outburst. He hardens as he gathers his thoughts together, folding his arms across his chest. She is surprised by his words, but only shows a twitch to show it. He watches her as she blinks, moving her glare so that it meets his. The same sparkle in her eyes that she had a few seconds before had dissolved. Natasha raises an eyebrow, a reply not escaping her lips. "See? You did it again." Clint frowned.

"Excuse me?" Natasha retorts. She sits up, resting her elbows on the table. "I don't understand what you're going at here."

Clint narrows his eyes. "You don't understand?" he backlashes with a sarcastic tone. He chuckles slightly, running a hand through his hair. "I don't understand you." His blue eyes lock on hers. "One minute I believe we can make this partnership—or whatever the hell this is—work. Then the next second you're all dark and twisty."

"Dark and twisty?"

Clint nodded his head in confirmation. "You're just so damn confusing." He paused, narrowing his gaze on the redhead. "You're like two different people." He watches as she stiffens, noting how she sits straighter when she's uncomfortable.

With her elbows on the table, she intertwines her fingers together and rests her chin on top. "Two different people, huh?" she chuckles darkly.

Clint nods. "Like an alternate ego," he teased.

"You're ridiculous."

"Nat, I'm serious." He shrugs. "Keeping all that," he pointed to her, spinning his pointer finger in a circle. "Bottled up inside isn't such a good idea." Just let me in. He thinks, let me help you. He puffs up his cheeks and uses his hands to mimic an explosion.

She glares at him and slightly bites her lip. "There's nothing to tell," she explains. He replies with the narrowing of his eyes. "What? There's not." But he knows better.

"I'm not stupid."

"I didn't say you were."

Here they are again, bickering. Clint begins to get frustrated as he evaluates her expression for clues without any luck. "I just need to know, Nat. It's going to come back and bite me in the ass if I don't." He watches her eyebrows scrunch as she searches for words.

"I don't need saving, Barton." She stiffens.

"I didn't say anything about saving. You don't have go through this alone anymore." He retaliates.

"I'm weapon." She focuses on him. "The only necessity required is a target and a trigger. It works simply and independently."

"Then what am I?" His lip twitches when he knew he'd hit the right nerve.

"That's different."

"How the hell is that different?" His voice rises.

"It just is." She tilts her chin upwards.

Clint acknowledges her gesture of confidence. "Bullshit." He mutters underneath his breath. But her walls had risen and reinforced. He wasn't going to break them down today. The lack of communication within the partnership could cause some real issues. It wasn't as if he didn't trust her with his life—he likes to think she feels the same—he just believes she doesn't trust him with who she thinks she is. Her opinion on herself and his opinion on her were two completely different stories, but she was too oblivious to see it. They each had their own demons. They each had their own horrors that made up who they are. He just had to make her see it.

"When you're ready to talk, you'll know where I'll be. Let's just hope it doesn't get me killed by then." He gets out of his chair and storms out.


End file.
